The one where Steve finds Bucky sleeping
by comfortablycurious
Summary: Based off prompt by imaginebucky.:Imagine Bucky soon after Steve finds him, getting his first real sleep in decades. Rated T for language.


Steve padded on Bucky's door, trying to be quiet, he'd noticed since Bucky was found that he didn't like loud noises; like, he REALLY didn't like loud noises. Anything sounding remotely like firecrackers, electricity, or guns terrified the shit out of him and threw him into panic attacks. After a few weeks of living in the tower, people slipped into a quieter demeanor. Even Thor would stop shouting his good news or using Mjolnir anywhere near Bucky. And it was obvious that he'd appreciated that.

Steve opened the door to find the bed in total disarray. The sheets torn off and stained with tears and maybe a few puddles of urine from many nights of constant fear. Steve sighed, the usual appearance, but no sign of Bucky.

...

Upon entering Bruce's room Steve was greeted with a neat, calm, quiet room with mostly neutral blues and browns. Bruce meditating in the corner.

"Banner," he murmured. Bruce crooked an eyebrow and opened one eye to Steve. Sighing, he relaxed.

"You guys know I don't like it when you interrupt me." He said, Steve shrugged in apology.

"No matter, can I help you?" Bruce asked. Steve explained. Bruce began to hum with thought.

"I saw him with Clint a few hours ago, check with him," he said, resuming his meditation.

Steve eventually found Clint in the air ducts, playing on his phone. The second Steve popped his head into the duct he was met with an abrupt-

"Not here, check with Tasha," Steve sighed again, where could that boy be. Clint laughed at something on his phone, probably a picture of a dog or a cat doing something stupid, maybe they should get a dog or a cat.

...

"Tasha, have you seen Bucky?" Steve asked. Natasha was concentrating on her target, a dummy positioned thirty feet away. She picked up a throwing knife, closed her eyes and threw. Missing the dead center by a fraction of an inch.

"Why would he be here?" She asked. She had a valid point, Bucky had made a very distinct point by avoiding exercise at all costs, which was actually proving to be a good thing for him, seeing as he'd actually been very underfed by Bruce's diagnosis. Very little carbs, mostly protein supplements. When they found out they immediately excused him from the gym for as long as he liked, and it began to show. His eyes began to soften over a few days, after a month he'd looked more like how Steve knew him. Less muscle, but still fit, the real Bucky.

"Where do you think he could be?" Steve wondered to Natasha.

"I have no idea, did you check with Bruce?"

"Yes,"

"Clint?"

"He told me to come to you,"

"Hmmm," she thought.

"Tony?"

Steve stifled a laugh.

"There's no way in hell Bucky would be hanging out with Tony,"

"Ask,"

...

"Last time I saw him was about an hour ago, I think he was headed to your room," Tony answered. Steve sighed, why the hell didn't he think of that.

Steve came up to his room, padding softly on the door, nothing. He cracked the door open and peered inside.

...

Bucky always made noises in his sleep, before the war, before hydra. Bucky just happened to make noises in his sleep. He made a little sigh when Steve opened the door to his room.

Bucky's hair was splayed out on the pillow, and he was curled up in the fetal position, curled around a lump that Steve knew was this little plushie of his shield he received from a fan a few months ago. The covers were only half draped across Bucky's waist, leaving the rest of him exposed to the, admittedly how Steve liked it, cold room.

Steve stepped in as quietly as he could, pulling up a chair from his desk and sitting down to watch over Bucky. He rested his chin on the back of the chair, letting the soldier stay oblivious to his surroundings, breathing softly, completely relaxed. He grabbed Bucky's real hand, completely limp, and squeezed it, wanting to make sure of one thing.

Bucky snorted, and let out the most ridiculous whine, and Steve stifled a guffaw. Dear lord he still does it, after seventy years he still does it, that jerk. He calmed down and pulled the blue covers over the soldier's bare shoulder, and stood up.

"You two are so weird," he heard Clint say, looking up he saw him leaning on the doorframe, changed out of his suit and into a purple T-shirt and gray sweats.

"But then again, that's coming from a guy who has eaten pizza he dropped off of the sidewalk on numerous occasions, so I wouldn't consider it valid," Clint left, and Steve stood up, filling a glass of water and setting it on his nightstand. He left Bucky in peace and went elsewhere to make himself some lunch.


End file.
